Something To Fight For
by SiriuslyPeeved
Summary: 1981: The first war against Voldemort is at its height, exacting grave casualties and erasing futures. In a series of vignettes, Fabian Prewett counts the costs of war and what might have been.


**Disclaimer:** The Potterverse is property of J.K. Rowling and her worldwide publishers and license holders, and borrowed here with love.

**Author's Note:** Slightly altered from the version submitted to the Ship Exchange Challenge on TGS. This story should not be considered part of the same continuity as _Unwritten_. I made an attempt to get it as close to canon as possible.

This story is dedicated to loved ones who have gone before me.

**July 1981**

Fabian Prewett jimmied open Arthur Weasley's tool shed door. A phalanx of old garden implements tumbled toward him. Fabian swore. "_Arresto momentum!_" He stashed the broomstick between a bent scythe and a rusted rake, slamming the door before the charm broke and the whole mess collapsed on him again. Molly would kill him if he woke the kids so early in the morning.

No one answered his first knock. "Molls? Molly! Bloody hell!" Of course Molly couldn't answer the door herself, so close to the expected arrival of Weasley number seven. Gideon said Molly was even bigger than with the twins, but the midwife insisted it was just one baby this time. Molly was furious.

"Bill! Charlie!" called Fabian, banging on the door with both fists.

A priggish little voice piped up behind the heavy oak door. "Mummy says not to let anyone in."

Fabian laughed. "C'mon, it's only Uncle Fabian."

Fabian sensed Percy's pointed silence through the closed door. "Only grown-ups let people in."

At six, Percy had the makings of common sense, even if he hadn't yet learned not to shove it in other people's faces. Fabian had a sneaking suspicion that Auntie Muriel would have blown her top if he or Gideon had ever given such cheek to an elder. Molly and Arthur had their hands full and no mistake.

"Can you get a grown-up for me?"

"I bet Dad is in Fred and George's room. They tried to tie Ronnie to a broomstick and fly him out the window."

Fabian stifled a loud guffaw at Percy's contempt. "Run along and get your Dad, mate."

"Morning, Arthur," said Fabian heartily into the opening door. Gideon stood in the midst of Molly's messy kitchen. His expression was frozen, as if he were straining for a faraway sound he couldn't quite make out. "What is it? Is it the baby? Is Molly all right?"

Gideon took one step forward and hugged his brother hard enough to make him gasp. "Molly's fine. No baby yet. I have to talk to you." Gideon reeled sideways and banged into the sideboard. Fabian lifted Gideon's arm over his head and supported his twin as they walked. Ten-year-old Bill leaned in the sitting room doorway. Fabian motioned for Bill to give them some privacy.

Gideon slumped on Molly's sofa like a broken scarecrow. Fabian gripped his brother's shoulder, both hoping he would speak, and hoping he wouldn't.

"Marlene's dead."

* * *

><p><strong>1980<strong>

"_That's _McKinnon?" Gideon looked up from perusing a second-hand children's bestiary in the back of Flourish and Blotts. Tinny Christmas music sprinkled from strategically placed horns in the pine boughs strung from the rafters. "She's got to be ten years younger than we are."

"Six," muttered Fabian. If he ducked his head and peered between the bookshelves, he could almost see her face. Marlene swept her tangled curls back with both hands, laughing at something her girlfriend said. The hem of her red plaid robes trailed on the ground, the broken stitches visible in the dim light. Something about her was always a little undone, a little unfinished.

"How do you know so much about Marlene McKinnon?"

Fabian shifted uncomfortably, running a hand through his overgrown auburn hair. "I talked to Black."

Gideon laughed aloud. "I don't know whether to hate that kid or ask him for his secret. I swear, he's been through half the women in the Order this year."

"Close your mouth, Gid. Auntie Muriel always said you'd catch flies."

Gideon's laughter caught Marlene's attention. She whispered something to her girlfriends and started walking toward the stacks. "Happy Christmas," she said to Gideon.

Fabian stared after her. Gideon trod heavily on Fabian's toe. He yelped, "Son of a...!"

Marlene wagged her forefinger with a teasing smile. "Language, Prewett. It's Christmas Eve."

Gideon moved casually to a display by the window. Fabian's voice dropped to a lower register. "Are you coming to the Order meeting on Boxing Day?"

"Gave my regrets. My mother and sisters are down for a visit." Fabian loved the way Marlene spoke, her Highland cadence a lighter, girlish version of McGonagall's burr. He had a feeling he could spend a happy evening listening to Marlene read a Muggle telephone directory.

"You deserve a break."

"Do I?" Marlene leaned back against a tall, dusty shelf overflowing with books. Her gossamer curls caught and tangled amongst drooping garlands of holly tacked to the shelves.

All around them, shoppers picked carefully through the tomes on display: fingering a spine, testing the gilt edges for quality. They sorted through their purchases, counting under their breath to make sure they had enough money, and placed the largest volumes back on the shelf with a regretful pat.

"Look around, Prewett. We're on the brink of open war. They're forcing themselves to have 'one last good Christmas.' Before what? Before Volde-"

"McKinnon!"

"Before You-Know-Who takes over. Look at them, Prewett." Marlene leaned forward. Her long, freckled fingers wrapped around Fabian's robed forearm. Even through the sturdy wool fabric of his sleeve, Fabian felt the warmth of her palms.

Near the front entrance, two small children played with an escaped fairy from the Christmas tree. A harried shop clerk tried to coax the glowing creature back into its silver-gilt cage. Oblivious to the fuss, the parents stood by the fireplace, talking in worried voices. "_That's_ what we're fighting for: people's families."

"It sounds like you've changed your plans."

"Maybe I have."

The fairy slipped out of the clerk's hands time and time again only to flutter up to the ceiling, chattering furious nonsense. The children laughed, jumping up and down. Their mother and father drew them out of the shop over their squeaky protests. Fabian could see the father subtly readying his wand as they walked into the gathering night.

"Come with me to the meeting," Fabian said suddenly. "It's not safe to be out alone."

Marlene laughed. "I can take care of myself." Fabian flushed slowly, but the light in the back of the shop was too dim for it to show. Marlene tucked her wild, straw-colored hair back behind one ear. "I'm so sorry I have to ask, but which one are you?"

"You mean which Prewett?" It was Fabian's turn to laugh. "Choose your poison."

"Fabian," said Marlene. He grinned down at her. She tilted her head to one side, and her curls fell away from her round, rosy cheeks. "Happy Christmas, Fabian."

* * *

><p><strong>March 1981<strong>

Marlene knelt in the hills overlooking Malfoy Manor, shivering in the dew. On the groomed plain below, poplar trees stood like chess pieces against the lemon-colored dawn.

"I'm sorry, Fabian. I just don't feel this is the right time."

Fabian leaned toward her, searching once more for her lips, which were slightly chapped, rough against his own. "What, not when we're on patrol? I can do it again later."

Marlene sat back on her heels, distancing herself. "Not till the war's over."

Fabian stared at her. Her fair hair glowed slightly in the dim red wand light, and her clear blue eyes shone with pity. "Marlene, that's a long time."

"I can't do it, Fabian. I can't build something that will only be smashed to pieces."

"You're assuming we're going to lose." Fabian spoke carefully, reaching out to cover her wand hand with his own.

Marlene wriggled her hand out from under his, and she clutched her wand against her chest. "I can't _be_ the tragic lover in the face of death. I don't have it in me… I'm not Lily Potter." Bemusement and a trace of scorn colored her Highland lilt as the blood rose in her face. "I'm a soldier, Fabian. Nothing matters to me but Voldemort."

"Marlene, _you_ matter to me."

"Fabian, darling..."

He reeled at her casual endearment, spoken so soon after her summary rejection. "I'm sorry I offended you," he said coldly.

Marlene turned away without a word. She focused once more on the manor house, tracking the activity outside. Fabian forced himself to stop shaking and cast another surveillance charm.

* * *

><p><strong>July 1981<strong>

The photographer packed his cases and departed. Mad-Eye dragged Dumbledore into his library and slammed the door. The remaining Order members took that as a signal, and the dining room emptied quickly. Peter Pettigrew brushed past Fabian, nodding pleasantly. "Where shall we go next?"

"I vote for the Hog's Head," grinned Sirius Black. He leaned hard on Pettigrew, nearly knocking the shorter man down.

Lily Potter hung on James's arm. "You would! Just remember we've only got Bathilda to watch the baby till seven-thirty!" Fabian raised a hand in farewell, and Lily waved back, laughing.

Raised voices from upstairs cut through the pleasant chatter. Fabian smirked as he heard Dumbledore's booming baritone cut through Moody's maledictions. Gideon stopped beside him. "Coming to the Hog's Head?"

"Maybe. Have you seen Marlene?"

Gideon eyed his twin with understanding. "I don't think she's left yet."

Fabian found Marlene in the front hall after the others had gone. Fabian heard nothing but a clock ticking, five minutes fast, and the quiet hum of Mad-Eye's Dark detectors in their display case. Marlene reached out with one delicate finger to set a levitating, pearlescent globe spinning in its case.

Fabian stepped toward her. "Come with us?"

Marlene took both of his hands and squeezed. "I can't. I'm going up to my mother's for a few weeks."

"Come back safe." Fabian drew her into his arms and buried his face in her pale curls. Marlene patted his shoulder. Fabian held on tightly, confused by his own sudden urgency. He memorized the softness of her cheek against his own, the smell of sun-warmed hair mixing with vanilla and raspberries, the soft burr of her voice against his shoulder as he closed his eyes.

"You're never going to let go, are you?" Marlene lifted his chin. Fabian had a difficult time meeting her eyes. "I'll be here when you need me. Don't forget that."

"See you, Marlene," said Fabian, his voice cracking. She slid her fingers up into his damp, sweaty red hair and kissed him on the forehead.

Fabian turned and walked away slowly. Something pulled him back to her side, but he pushed back against it, pressing the sudden rush of emotion back down into his gut as Marlene's broomstick lifted off, pointed north.

* * *

><p>On Molly's sofa, Fabian held Gideon rigidly against his shoulder. If he'd known that would be the last time he would ever see her, would he have run back and told her everything he really felt? Would he have exchanged their easy friendship for something more, if only for a scant handful of days? Would he have thrown himself in even deeper for the chance to be close to her? Fabian didn't know, he'd never know.<p>

"Do you know what happened?" he asked his brother, but Gideon was beyond speech.

"Fabian, dear, I'm so sorry." Molly stood in the doorway, supporting her back with both hands. Gideon was a dead weight on Fabian's shoulder; he couldn't get free to help her. Molly made her way to the sofa, lowering herself down gently.

"What happened?"

Molly squeezed his hand. "Her whole family: her mother, her sisters, her grandfather. Remus brought word last night. He said Travers was involved, but they haven't been able to determine who else was there. It would have taken a lot more than just Travers to take out Marlene," she said fiercely.

Fabian squeezed his eyes shut. When he opened his eyes, would he find he was dreaming? Would he see the contours of his pillow, the half-full tumbler of water standing beside his old pocket watch?

Opening his eyes, Fabian saw nothing but Molly's kind, worried face, red hair falling in tangled waves to her chin. The love and sorrow in her eyes were enough to break him. She pressed him so hard against her side, he could feel the baby's hard feet kicking in protest.

"What if Marlene was right?"

Molly drew a clean handkerchief from the pocket of her dressing gown and dabbed at Fabian's cheek. "Right about what, dear?"

"What about the kids? What kind of world will they grow up in?"

Molly didn't respond at first. Tears shone in her lashes, and Fabian regretted his words. "We _have_ to hope," she said quietly, resting her hand on her belly. "If we don't defeat him, our children will."

"That sounds like something to fight for," croaked Gideon on Molly's other side. Molly leaned into him.

A toddler's wounded shrieks filtered down from several floors above. Wild-eyed, little Percy ran into the room. "Mum! Ronnie climbed out of his cot and fell right on his face!"

Fabian helped Molly to her feet. "Please stay," said his sister, "Both of you, as long as you want. Fabian, I don't want you to be alone."

"You haven't got the room."

"We'll manage, dear. We always do."

Fabian would fight, he thought, helping Molly up the stairs. He would fight for his family, and he would fight for Marlene McKinnon, for the life they never had together. She would expect no less of him.


End file.
